


Push, Meet Shove

by SeventhStrife



Series: AUideas Advent Calendar: 2016 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cloud is so Tired, M/M, SOLDIER!Cloud, Sane!Sephiroth, Sephiroth You Absolute Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeventhStrife/pseuds/SeventhStrife
Summary: “For Science!” AU
  
  
  Character A is a scientist, and they’ve been working on a project that requires a human assistant to get the best results. When Character A’s usual assistant cancels and says that they don’t want to continue with the experiment, Character B readily jumps at the offer to help out Character A. After all, Character A wouldn’t put them in a truly weird or dangerous situation, right?


Cloud gets a call for help late at night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in a rush. It shows.

Cloud gets the call on his PHS at an obscene hour.

_ Need help Angeal canceled results crucial come asap _

Cloud stares at the screen, eyes squinted, and after two minutes his brain can finally process the words. When it does he sighs, hangs his head, and drags himself out of bed. 

The walk from his quarters to the upper level isn’t long, but it requires leaving the floor in the first place and for Cloud, at this hour, is a deep offense. He normally wouldn’t bother, but how often does  _ he  _ ask for help?

Still, when the elevator doors open to deposit Cloud out into a cold, fluorescent-lighted hallway, he vows absolute, devastating revenge if the reason is anything short of life-threatening.

Cloud reaches the door and knocks. He waits, and waits, knocks again, and still, nothing. 

Irritated—he could be  _ sleeping— _ he pulls out his PHS and calls. He  _ would  _ pound on the door until someone answered, but he doesn’t quite like his chances if all the neighboring soldiers decided to kill him for waking them up too.

The phone rings and rings, and then, just when Cloud is resolving to go back to bed, it picks up.

_ “Yes, what?” _

“Answer your door.” Cloud doesn’t bother hiding his annoyance.

A pause, and then,  _ “Ah. Cloud. I’m not there. Come to the training room, number three.” _

Cloud opens his mouth— _ Click. _

Very suddenly, Cloud decides to become a murderer. All thoughts of rest are thrown from his mind and all he can focus on is how he’s taking time out of his very erratic sleeping schedule to help out an utter  _ asshole. _

It’s a struggle not to crush his PHS into a lump of twisted metal. Cloud takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He pockets his device and swings back for the elevator, his movements stiff with anger.

The ride down  _ (ten floors!) _ doesn’t cool his anger. If anything, it only heightens it, because he’s more aware of the time passing, precious time he could be spending in bed, and how he could have been helping sooner if  _ someone  _ had deigned to tell him where to go when he  _ first  _ messaged him.

The doors open and while the lighting isn’t significantly dimmer, the floor is on low power mode. Cloud can discern the glow of his own eyes, a bright, SOLDIER green.

Cloud all but stomps to the training room, holding onto his control by the merest thread. Usually, it takes a lot more than thoughtlessness to make him so irate, but he’s  _ tired. _

The door slides open soundlessly and there he is, standing immaculate and calm as ever, not a single hint of fatigue in those sharp green eyes.

“Cloud. You brought your sword. Good.”

Deep inhale through the nose, and out through the mouth. “What is it, Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth pulls out his own PHS and the faint electronic sound of his tapping keys echoes in the voluminous empty space. Their surrounding bleed away into red, and Cloud finds himself in a deep, sunny canyon.

Across from him, Sephiroth pockets his PHS and considers Cloud coolly, eyes sweeping him head to do.

“I’m testing a new experimental materia. So far it’s withstood shattering with basic forms, but I need some more concrete results.”

Materia testing? Cloud doesn’t even know where to begin with that. He equips it, he uses it, he’s done. Sephiroth could have told him what this was all about, if only to save them both time.

“Okay...So what am I supposed to do here?”

Sephiroth swings the Masamune off his back and meets Cloud’s gaze head on, a spark of challenge in his eyes.

“Survive.”

And the Sephiroth is there, right on top of Cloud, swinging his blade in an arc that could only end at Cloud’s neck— 

Pure reflex alone saves him, and Cloud defends with his sword, roughly halting Sephiroth’s path in a jarring clash of metal.

Their faces are barely three inches apart and Cloud stares at Sephiroth in mute shock for an incredulous moment.

Then, he gets angry. 

The early call, the misdirection, and now he’s attacking Cloud without warning? Sephiroth can be selfish, Cloud  _ knows  _ this, but all of this? Combined with Cloud’s lack of sleep, the only thing in the world he truly covets?

Cloud forces Sephiroth away with a strong shove, tracking his movements like he would an enemy in battle. All of his irritation bubbles to the surface and Cloud lets it. He rolls his shoulders and brings his sword up into a defensive stance.

“Do your worst.”

Cloud and Sephiroth usually don’t spar. It has been universally agreed upon by their few friends, their fellow soldier, and even higher ups within the Turks and the SOLDIER department, that it’s Not A Good Idea.

The specialized training rooms that First Class SOLDIERs use are equipped to withstand their power. Angeal and Genesis usually destroy one when they team up to spar with Sephiroth. 

When  _ Cloud  _ and Sephiroth spar? The amount of damage sets Shin-Ra back a pretty penny.

In an instant, Cloud knows this is why Sephiroth set this all up. The late hour, when Cloud’s brain would be sluggish, purposely distracting him with vexing directions, and then surprise attacking him—unlike  _ him,  _ Cloud listens to his superiors, including when they bad him from sparring with certain silver-haired menaces to society. 

So, Sephiroth had to get creative to get him here.

Cloud charges Sephiroth and they exchange a furious flurry of blows, blades sparking at every clash. They jump across the canyon like things possessed, Cloud choosing to exercise his anger, Sephiroth coolly taunting, a faint smirk on his features, one of satisfaction that only incenses Cloud further.

Perfect, unquestionable Sephiroth who always gets  _ exactly what he wants,  _ **_when_ ** _ he wants it.  _ Cloud grips his sword so tightly the leather in his gloves gives an audible creak. 

He knows his anger is just playing into Sephiroth’s hands, giving him the all-out fight he’s been pestering Cloud for since the ban was instated. He knows Sephiroth is manipulating him. He  _ knows  _ he’s just giving him what he wants.

But Cloud doesn’t care. He just wants to wipe that  _ damn  _ smirk off Sephiroth’s face.

Their blades meet and slide against each other, and, pressed close, Sephiroth goads him.

“Is this the best you can do, Cloud? I’m disappointed. At least make this worth my time.”

For a moment, Cloud goes sightless from anger, everything a sharp white. His ears are ringing.

Cloud meets Sephiroth’s eyes and something must be showing on his face, because his green eyes widen slightly in surprise.

They push away from each other in an explosion of power. Red dust kicks up in their wake.

Rage steals Cloud’s words, twisting them into a tangled jumble that lodges in his throat. He’s shaking with it.

The materia in the slot of his swords glow as wisps of magic curl up his arms and down his shoulders. He must look serious, because Sephiroth stops smiling.  _ Good,  _ Cloud thinks savagely. He’s tensed just a bit, and his eyes track Cloud cautiously. 

“Cloud—”

Cloud strikes, a deadly spray of ice firing like spears at his opponent. Sephiroth deflects them with a slice of his sword but is forced to jump away for cover when the barrage doesn’t stop. 

A furious onslaught of magic and swordplay forces  _ Sephiroth  _ on the defense, but Cloud can’t even enjoy it. All he can think about is how  _ angry  _ he is, how dumb it is that he let Sephiroth goad him into this situation in the first place.

Why is it always  _ Sephiroth  _ that can bring these annoying, intense emotions to the surface?

They battle for minutes, hours, days, Cloud isn’t sure, but somewhere in that time Sephiroth stops trying to calm Cloud, stops simply defending, and meets Cloud evenly.

Despite it all, Cloud has to grudgingly admit it’s a good fight.

They don’t stop until, both of them supercharging their materia for another attack, the canyon crumbles away in a jarring glitch and their surroundings become dark, broken machinery and skittering sparks of electricity.

It startles Cloud enough to come back to himself, and when he takes in the damage, he winces.

His ears are already ringing from the chewing out that’s in store for him. Not that  _ Sephiroth  _ has to worry about that. If a director yelled at Sephiroth, he’d eat his sword.

“That went very well. It’s a shame the room couldn’t withstand us a bit longer.”

Cloud feels a headache blooming between his eyes.

“You  _ have  _ to stop doing this.”

“Why?” Sephiroth has the audacity to sound genuinely confused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

“Whatever.” Cloud sheathes his blade. “You’re buying me breakfast.”  _ You asshole,  _ he adds silently.

Behind him, he can  _ hear  _ Sephiroth’s smirk.

“Of course, Cloud.”

**Author's Note:**

> I originally planned for there to be some slightly shippy content towards the end, but then I thought, NAH, Sephiroth is a total jerk, he would so do this unapologetically. So I wrote Cloud getting angry because it's actually really fun. 
> 
> Also the ending is abrupt and things repeat a bit since I found out about the advent late and rushed to write/post this while I was at work. OTL


End file.
